The Halfa Factory
by CrypticMoonFang
Summary: Humans are an inferior race in a world ruled by halfas, but they depend on us to keep their species alive. To ensure that halfas will continue to exist, they bring us to halfa factories, where we are forced to create their next generation.
1. Chapter 1

"Mom! No, don't go! Don't leave me! Please!" I cried as tears rolled down my cheeks.

My mother knelt down to give me one last embrace. She pushed away and cupped my face.

"Honey," she said, "I have to. I don't have a choice. Stay safe, sweetheart. And hide—never go out in the open, and keep in the shadows. Okay?"

I hung my head in resignation. I couldn't go up against my mother's last words to me. Deep down I knew she had to leave. Every day that passed, she was putting my life in more and more danger. It was only a matter of time before I was exposed, before they discovered that she had a daughter. A human daughter.

Why couldn't she be one of them? Why did she have to go through all this? I would rather it be me! She served her time there. She had done exactly what they wanted…but failed.

I knew that even though she said to stay safe and hidden—which was possibly the hardest thing any girl could ever hope to do—I would eventually follow in her footsteps, and be taken as well. I wasn't old enough yet, and I hadn't matured enough, but it wouldn't matter once I was found out—or, according only to my mother, _if_ I was found out. I couldn't bring myself to understand why she was trying to comfort me. My own mother was being taken away. She was leaving. Permanently. I would never see her again unless… I felt heavy shivers run through my spine.

Why couldn't those monsters just do what we did? They didn't have to steal us from each other! We could all coexist if we tried! There was no real need for separation of the classes, so to speak.

I frowned; my teeth gritted, my tears still flooding my eye, and my soul currently being torn apart with each blink of her eyes. No…Mom… I needed her… If she was going, I wanted her to— No… I couldn't say that I wanted to go with her. I wanted neither of us to go, but we both had to face facts—she was going no matter what happened. Not because she wanted to of course, but because she had to.

I shook my head and tried to tell her to come with me, to hide a little longer; but no words would come forth as I moved my mouth. My throat had closed up and wouldn't allow for a single sound.

My mother gently kissed my forehead and smiled. "I'll be okay, sweetie. It'll just be for a little while."

No… No it wouldn't… It would be for the rest of her life. Then it would be my turn.

I shook my head again and looked up at her, silently pleading my heart out to stay with me. We had a chance if she would just stay. That's what I wanted to believe at least. The truth was that no one had ever escaped the place she was going.

Although there had been a rumor as of late that a hole had opened in their security. Somehow people were starting to come out. They think it was something from the inside that was malfunctioning. Maybe my mother would be able to get through that hole, if it existed. I sure hoped so…

Because what girl wants their mother to go? The freaks. The ones that take their mothers for granted. They were blind. Blinder than bats. Everyone would endure the same fate, which would be passed on to the next generation, and then the next, and so on and so forth. When I was younger, I was the blind freak. I grew older, though, and realized how this twisted world worked.

I only realized it, unfortunately, _after_ my mother miraculously came back. I didn't know whether she had escaped or was allowed out, and I never bothered to ask. I had been so happy to see her again…and now she was leaving, this time never coming back.

I just…I didn't want her to leave… I needed her but I knew she didn't need me. And she was going to be taken sooner or later. It was hard to believe she wanted to turn herself in just because I existed.

"Honey," my mom cooed, "I'll be fine. Just remember what I told you about hiding. Do _not_ let them find you."

I reluctantly nodded. I hoped she knew how hard this was for me. She was the only family I had. Now I would have to turn to my friend Tucker, whose mother had already been taken and unlike mine, wasn't going to come back. At least he has his father though. I didn't know what happened to mine. One day he was there, the next he was gone. I doubted he left us—he loved us too much for that. Something had to have happened to him. I just didn't know what.

But for now, I would have to stay hidden like my mother wanted me to. But to stay safe? Well. We'll have see about that because I honestly don't think that would be possible. Hidden and safe just didn't go together in this world.

**A/N**

**Other chapters will be longer. Consider this one a prologue.**


	2. Chapter 2

I had stayed hidden, just like my mother had told me to do. I was literally always in the shadows. Every time I saw a glow of any sort, I scampered off in the opposite direction. My home was usually in an alleyway, because Tucker's house was too close to the H-fac. I came over from time to time, but it was too much in the open for my comfort. There was a reason Tucker and his father need not worry about them, about the 'far more intelligent' and 'far more superior' beings.

As I hid behind a dumpster, still very much alert, I caught a small glimpse of sunlight before it was blocked out by a passing cloud. Sunlight was becoming a rarity… It used to be beautiful but now it just taunted me. I couldn't go out into the sunlight, or else I would be seen. And if I was seen, I was caught. The secret to this? Spot them before they spot me. I'd had many close encounters though, and it seemed to be getting worse with each day that passed. I had been at this for two years now. I was sixteen. That was bad. Age didn't always matter to them, but being sixteen was the age they considered ripe. Sixteen through twenty, those years were bound to be the worst in all your life. And I was sixteen now. I was of perfect age, and would be of perfect age until twenty-one. I had a much better chance of being hauled off to an H-fac now.

"Sam," someone spoke softly to me.

I nearly jumped out of my skin and began pleading for freedom.

"Sam, it's okay!" the voice assured. "It's me."

I suddenly recognized the voice as Tucker's and breathed slowly for a bit, trying to calm my nerves. I was already on high alert, I sure didn't need him scaring me like that. I thought he was one of them! What was he doing sneaking up on me like that anyway?

"Sorry, Sam," he whispered. "I just wanted to warn you. You need to get away from here, at least for the next hour or so. They're going to search our neighborhood soon."

I nodded and thanked him before trying to decide which way to go. It couldn't be in the sunlight, obviously. There was a turn down the alley but that was a dead end. I could try to convince Tucker's neighbors to hide me—every human hid other humans, as was the unspoken law among us—and hope that when they did the search, they wouldn't find me. To stay safe… That was what Mom told me. I couldn't let her down, not now.

My eyes narrowed as I watched slender shadows glide over the pale concrete. Hairs of sunlight still mocked me, telling me I couldn't do it. Wrong. I could. I had to. For Mom.

I heard Tucker moving away from me, going back into his house. The search had probably already begun there, which meant I had very little time to get my butt in gear and move. Still… I looked around again, daring to peer around the corner. I was right. They were talking to Tucker's father, questioning him about the whereabouts of any other humans. Scratch that—they were questioning him about where I was. I could congratulate myself for eluding them each and every time. They had been searching for me for a while now, yet despite their efforts, I ran away from them and managed to wedge myself in places no one thought possible—not even them.

But in order to get to the neighbor's door, I would have nowhere to run or hide. I would be forced out into the open, in clear view of everyone. The sunlight would beat down on me and I would be immediately identifiable. Whatever the case…I had to choose. I could remain behind this dumpster and pray they don't find me, I could run around the corner of the alley and pray they don't find me, or I could risk my life going out into the open to go to Tucker's neighbor's house…and pray they don't find me.

I shook my head and tried to muster the courage. I really only had one shot at this…

I pressed my back to the alley wall and inched over to the corner, cautiously looking around it to check the progress of the search. Three of them seemed to be standing guard at the front door. Odd… Normally only one stayed outside. It was possible that there were more inside the house.

My eyebrows furrowed as a realization hit me. They knew. They already knew where I was, they knew that I was around this vicinity. Of course there would be more than usual. I couldn't let them find me though, for the sake of both my life and my mother's parting words.

I pulled my head back and nodded, trying to assure myself that even now, I could actually pull this off.

"Come on," I mouthed to myself. "They'll be done any second now—if you want to go, you need to do it now."

Alright. So I had no courage, no guarantees, no reassurance, and no chances left for me to take.

I took one anyway. Being in this alley wasn't going to help me at all. In fact, they would check here before they checked the neighbor's house, knowing well that it was a great hiding spot. I had to attempt what I would like to call a 'suicide mission'. Because that's what it was. I was going into the open, with every odd against me, most likely to be met face to face with one of the monsters who took my mother.

I felt my heart jumping around in my chest. I had learned a long time ago how to overcome lack of courage or anything else for that matter. It was really simple, but very hard. I quickly forced my brain to just…turn off. I kept my eyes wide open, though it would've been ten times easier to close them before darting out from the alley. I set my sights on my target—the neighbor's front door. I forced myself to drown out all noises. I could still hear everything, but it was as if there was no sound to begin with; sort of like everything was in my head. Third thing I had to do: pay absolutely no attention to my body's demands. My lungs would be burning from the adrenaline rush and my desperate running would contribute greatly to lack of oxygen. I had to ignore that once I went out there.

One more thing that didn't really involve shutting anything down or out was to resist the urge to look back. I couldn't afford to pay attention to my surroundings if I had only one destination that I might not even reach. If I looked back, I knew somewhere inside me that I would _go_ back. I couldn't do that. Maybe later, if I was still free and they were gone, but definitely not now.

I took one long, deep breath and concentrated on that door. There was where I needed to be. I only needed to do one thing to get there.

Another deep breath. My knees wanted to badly to stiffen and keep me in one place, but they didn't seem to understand what was at stake here. They would never be able to move again if they didn't move now!

It all happened in an instant. One quick retraction of a tendon and I was off, out of the alley and in plain sight for all to see. The elusive, ripe-for-the-picking human girl was now in view and easily seen. Around here, seen meant caught. And around here, easily seen meant easily caught. At least if I was going down, I would put up a fight. But no, not here, and not yet.

I made it while their backs were turned and, again as the unspoken law stated, rammed their door with my shoulder. It created a special soft thud against the wood that told those indoors that a refugee was out there and needed protection.

The door opened only two seconds later and I was yanked inside the house. A man carefully closed the door behind me as I collapsed onto the carpet.

I smiled. A human… _Just_ a human…

My body shook violently and suddenly reality smacked me in the face. All my senses came back. I could feel the adrenaline in me, my lungs on fire from it. My mouth and throat were parched. I blinked several times, bringing relief to my stinging eyes. My hearing finally came back and I was able to pay attention to my surroundings again. The best part was, my brain decided to get cranking and come back to life. I could focus now.

The man knelt down to my level and eyed me.

I looked up at him and smiled in gratitude, still panting.

"How old are you, hun?" he asked in a deep voice. It had no real accent. Well, maybe a tad bit Southern, but no more than that.

I held up a finger, using the gesture to tell him to wait before I spoke.

I gulped in more precious air before being able to tell him in a breathy voice, "Sixteen."

He glanced at the door for a moment before looking back at me. "I was wondering why there are more than usual…"

I nodded. "They're here for me… They want to take me away, just like they took my mother away…"

"That's not surprising. You're ripe," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm sorry to hear about your mother. My daughter was taken two months ago. I can only hope she finds a way through the hole in their security system."

I looked back down. "The hole doesn't exist. This isn't jail, you know. It's an H-fac—worse."

The man didn't glare at me for saying that, but had a look of defeat on his face. I instantly felt bad. I wanted to backpedal, but there was a knock on the door.

He grabbed my arm and stuffed me under the couch, where strips of cloth hid the underside of it. I positioned myself in perfect alignment with the direction of the couch. I was a little on the short side, so that was good. I would grow eventually, so it was obvious that I would have to seek out places better than under a couch to hide in.

I heard the door open.

"Ah, hello. Come to do a search?" the man asked politely.

Oh, he was good. Inviting them to search his house was actually a good idea. Occasionally they would refuse to search a house that they assumed had nothing of use to them in it. I was hoping that they would decline the offer and go away to some other house that I wasn't in.

But of course they didn't. I was starting to think that they were seriously ticked off with me. Like they had any right to be… To be truthful, I was scared. So scared, in fact, that tears were rolling down my face. I had to manually keep myself from hitching. I would never admit to being this scared but when I knew what was going to happen to me should I be caught… I stilled my body, effectively keeping myself from shuddering.

I heard air currents flow by, even feeling the breeze from under the couch. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to run, to get away. Logic overpowered their desperate pleas and I tried to focus only on what was going on from the rest of the house. It was made hard, though, because when I saw a dark shadow—the darker the shadow, the closer the person—my instincts fought viciously against my logic. My body was shaking against my will, and it was all I could do to hold my breath so any gasps I made wouldn't be shaky and noisy.

The shadow got darker—the person came closer. Was I sweating now? My face felt wet. Or was it cold? Maybe it was warm? No, clammy. Yes, my face was more likely to be clammy now than ever before.

I closed my mouth, hoping to avoid accidentally clicking my tongue or clattering my teeth. Right now, I was afraid to so much as blink. Rumors were, they had enhanced hearing. I didn't want my eyes to somehow make a noise. Maybe I was just being paranoid… I mean, those rumors couldn't be true. If they were ha—"

"Hm," I heard one of them grunt. "Guess we've checked everywhere…"

And then I heard the man. He produced a kind of guttural moan, another one of the unspoken laws. It was a secret warning to the refugee that they were about to be discovered. I was the refugee. I was about to be discovered.

"Hm? Something wrong?" one of them asked.

"Oh, no, no. It's nothing. Might be a little bit of an allergy acting up," he replied.

While my host was busy keeping them talking—the same beautiful, unspoken law said that humans would do _everything_ they could to help other humans—I quickly looked around, my mind suddenly sharp. I only had two choices. I could wait under the couch—maybe they would decide to leave after all. My second option was equally as risky. I could run. I could slide out from under the couch and run. I had outrun them before, but never from inside someone's house.

I had to make the decision quickly, but they both seemed to scream out, "WON'T WORK!"

So…this was it then… I doubted I could slide out quickly enough to even _start_ running. And hiding…well, that was pretty obvious. Maybe I should've taken my chances in the alleyway instead of taking off like I did. I was caught. They finally cornered me.

Another one of those guttural moans.

I know… I was getting his message, but I was done. I had been fighting this for years now, for a very long time. I knew I would exhaust my luck one of these days. I was expecting this day to come. Not today, granted…but one day soon. Suddenly I understood why my mother had turned herself in. She knew it was pointless to keep fighting as well. She felt the same as I did now. The only reason she waited was because she wanted to make sure I would run, hide, and stay safe. I ran. I hid. I stayed safe. And now it was worth nothing.

It was never like me to give up. Anyone could sit there watching me right now and belittle me for just…quitting. If anyone were to do that, then I would love to see them in my position.

One last guttural moan.

I was no longer afraid to sigh. I breathed again, I blinked again, but I couldn't stop shaking. If I was going down anyway, why could my body at least let me go down with dignity? Well, not that I had any to begin with, but if I had _anything_ left in me, why wouldn't my body let me retain that?

I shook my head, sorry to disappoint everyone. My host, my mother…myself.

I slowly crawled out from under the couch. I didn't look up, but I could feel everyone's eyes on me. I could especially feel the man's eyes. He wasn't disappointed like I thought he would be. He was sorry. I didn't want him to be sorry; it was never his fault. He did what he could, and nothing less. Refugees were found sooner or later, and I had to accept that my turn had come at long last.

I felt air and footsteps all around me as I stood up, arms up in surrender.

When I looked up, my eyes were met with green, red, purple, blue…you name it.

Some of those eyes were seething with anger, probably at how many times I had avoided them before now. Other sets of eyes held satisfaction, and others relief. There were more emotions, but it really didn't matter anymore. I realized that I was a wanted fugitive in their disturbing world.

And now I was following my mother to the H-fac.

**A/N**

**Keep all questions you may have inside your head, and try to forget about them. This story will explain everything. Naturally, it won't be right away, but you'll all have your questions answered at one point or another. So for now, just sit back and enjoy. **


	3. Chapter 3

There were other girls all over the place, some scattered here, and others sprinkled there. Each one was around my age. I saw a couple of them younger than me—not by much, but still younger. I didn't try to resist anymore. I knew it was useless, especially now that I was actually here. This was the place where…um…well, I didn't quite know what would happen to me. All I knew was that an H-fac only existed to contain humans. I had heard rumors from other refugees that we were here to help create new halfas. Yes, halfas—half ghost, half human. They were the heartless race that undeservingly dominated the world. They were the ones who were bringing humans to this place, called a halfa factory. Among humans, it was just called an H-fac, but maybe these halfas had actually named the place.

I didn't know how new halfas were created, nor did I care. I was smaller than at least half the girls here, so I was likely to be put to work on some kind of machine, probably pulling levers or pushing buttons—something little to fit my strength.

Being near other girls, even though our wrists had been bound by ropes, was comforting somehow. It made this place seem a little more bearable than I had expected. Hopefully I would be working with a gi— Wait… Aside from all the male guards, there were no boys. Where were the boys? Well, that was…that was a really stupid question. They were boys; they had probably already been put to work. Still, I was hoping I wouldn't have to work with a boy. Girls understood each other better and we weren't cocky about our muscles. We also didn't flirt with one another. If I was going to be in an H-fac anyway, I certainly didn't want to be stuck with some random boy flirting with me.

Not that I was flirt-able to begin with, but still, I didn't want to take chances.

Ugh…there I was being stupid again. I couldn't take chances even if I wanted to, because none of this was up to me. I was at the halfas' mercy now. _They_ decided what to do with me. I already knew I would have no say in the matter, so it was pointless to ask, beg, or demand a certain position. I simply kept stiff upper lip and prevented myself from giving these guys an earful. When you had become legendary to them by eluding every capture attempt for so long, it was easy to become a little arrogant around those who had finally—after a grueling two years—managed to capture you.

But I would soon discover—I just knew I would—what was more grueling than constantly running, hiding, and being teased by licks of sunlight. Back then, I was living in fear of what I knew would come—capture. Now that I was in an H-fac, I didn't know what exactly would become of me. I didn't know what was next. And _that_ was what scared me now. I didn't know what happened in here. No one had ever gotten out to spread the word. There was no escape _from_ an H-fac, and no hope _in_ one.

I felt a sharp tug on my wrists as I was yanked forward. Were we used as slaves here? Because they were being a little rough. And to think, I was a girl, so I couldn't imagine what they would do to a boy. Still, they could ease up on the rope a bit. I wasn't exactly like I had anywhere to run, and there was no place I could hide. Master of shadows or not, I couldn't hide in open sight. Even if I were to join in the crowd of girls, there were guards crawling all over the place. I could only let them take me where they willed.

"Where's my mother?!" I heard a girl shout.

I looked just in time to see a hand slap itself over her mouth. And no, it wasn't her hand—it was the halfa she was with.

I sighed, suddenly hoping my mother wasn't in this place after all. Of course I wanted to see her again, but not here. I also didn't want her to see me like this—all tied up and at the hands of a halfa. Terrible, really… My mother tried to protect me for nothing. We both knew I would wind up in this place eventually but for some reason she chose to cling to a strand of hope that didn't exist. Then again, hadn't I clung to the same strand of nonexistent hope? Running had proven a miserable failure. It had only prolonged my capture. It had also angered the halfas, which was something no one wanted to do.

They actually registered themselves on a power scale, according to what I had heard. The strongest halfas scored a solid seven and the weakest a solid three. Why it skipped one and two, and stopped at seven instead of ten, I would never know. Maybe it was just to make the weak ones feel better.

I probably didn't want to know, or even needed to.

I was yanked forward again. Having finally been brought out of my thoughts, I came to notice that I was in a line—a long line. It was so long, in fact, that I couldn't see what was going on at the end. Er…scratch that; I couldn't see what was going on at the _front_.

One of the seemingly weird things—it could've been separated by sex—about this line was that it consisted entirely of girls between ages thirteen to twenty-five. Well, that was my estimate. It looked like there were few adults, but maybe they were actually younger than they looked. Most of the girls in this line were around my age, that much I could tell. I supposed it was a little bit of a plus that I was going to work with another girl, unless they chose to make me work alone. Maybe I would get to work with multiple girls. Who knows…?

Oh, whatever! What difference did it make?! Alone, with one girl, with more than one girl! I was in an H-fac now, so it wasn't going to be pleasant either way. While another girl would be nice, I highly doubted I would have the time or energy to talk to her while I was working; and maybe even after I was done working.

…Did they allow breaks here? Shifts? _Rest?_

I sighed heavily. Guess I would find out…

I was yanked forward again. Accursed rope… My wrists were starting to burn and chafe. It didn't help that with each tug the rope tightened around them. If they kept this up, my hands would have to be amputated. Did they _want_ a handless worker? Doubtful but possible. If there was one thing I had already learned about these…these _things_, it was that they were crazy. Crazy as in completely messed up and in need of serious help. I would admit that they were the ones who dominated the world, but they were vile creatures that were said to be ruthless to any human they wanted.

Actually, that brought up a question that I had missed before: why had Tucker and his dad not been captured? And what about the man who had so kindly hidden me? The girls were the only ones who ever seemed to be on the run. But…why? Did they think girls were better workers than boys? If it was manual labor, then they were crazier than I thought—and I already thought they were pretty crazy. However, if it was something of intellect, then girls would probably be better workers. No offense to guys but girls generally favored brains over brawn. Or perhaps it was more a matter of loyalty. I myself was very loyal to those I trusted, which in this world was any human. But I would never bend to the will of a halfa. I would never give my loyalty to a thing that treated humans so lowly.

I would say that halfas had no loyalty, but that would be a lie. I could already tell they were loyal to each other. Their teamwork proved that.

I was yanked forward again.

Seriously?! Again?! They couldn't be a _tiny_ bit gentler?! I was a girl! No male was supposed to be this rough with a girl!

But of course, these were halfas. They didn't have a sense of courtesy. They didn't live by human standards. They weren't as civil as us. My overall impression of them wasn't good. It never had been, but now I'd lost any respect I may have had for them. 'Heartless' had the same letters as 'halfa', and now I could see why.

Another yank.

WHY?!

I kept being yanked forward, slowly making my way toward the front of the line. The closer I got, the more nervous I became. I had never seen what went on in an H-fac before, and I honestly didn't want to now. Curious as my nature was, this was one place I would never want to explore. I didn't want to know what went on here, or what kind of—

One more yank and I was at the very front of the line. I didn't want to be at the front! Not yet! The back was so much better, I could be patient!

I was pushed forward. I halfway expected my hands to be set free. They weren't.

In front of me stood a halfa with green flames for hair, green eyes, and suited head to toe in a very high tech battle suit. Heavily armored, I noted. He was a bulky halfa, which meant he had to be strong. Strength signaled power. Power was registered on the three-seven scale. My guess was that he was a seven. If not, then maybe a _decimal_ lower.

"Skulker," my halfa guard said, drawing Skulker's attention from what seemed to be a list of some sort. "We have a girl, probably sixteen years of age. She's ripe."

This 'Skulker' eyed me for a moment before turning back to his list. He looked it over and, deciding that I wasn't on it, stood up. The end of my rope was handed over to him and he led me to a door down the hallway behind him. It opened with a pneumatic hiss to reveal a huge room full of circular doors. It looked more like a hotel, in all honesty.

I was guided all around the room. Each one had a number above the door. Beside each number was a light. Some of them were lit up, others weren't. They were clearly a signal for something.

I saw from the corner of my eye a halfa come out of one of the doors on the opposite side of the room. He locked the door behind him, giving me the impression that there was someone occupying that particular room.

I heard Skulker mumble something. It sounded like numbers, but his voice was too low to properly make out what he was saying. I just noticed he had brought his list with him. Upon closer inspection, it was a checklist. There were numbers beside each box. Room numbers, I assumed. There were checked boxes in random places on that list. I wondered if I was going to be brought into a room, and which number that room would be.

I soon moved my eyes to glare at Skulker. He may be strong but he would never break me. My willpower was strong and my spirit stronger. Good luck to the _thing_ that dared to say it was a life. Hmph. Halfas and life just didn't go together. They were too different—opposites, actually.

My main point was that they were soulless.

I heard a door open and another halfa came out. There was a pained cry coming from behind the door before it was closed and locked.

The walls had to be soundproof; I couldn't hear a single thing after that door had been shut. Then again…maybe I didn't want to.

That thought sent horrible shivers down not just my spine, but my entire back. I didn't know what had just happened behind that door. Part of me wanted to know just to see what they had in store for me, but another part of me didn't want to know. I was torn between the two right now. I had this gut feeling that I didn't want to know, but would find out whether I wanted to or not. No matter the feeling, though, there was no way such a cry could come from something good. Maybe I didn't want to know after all… I mean, I could push back my curiosity just this once…right?

Okay, now it was official; I was a mixture of nervous, scared, angry, and some other emotions I couldn't quite identify. It was just a bundle of feelings raging around inside my body and I hated it. Oh. Hatred, there was one of the emotions. Something told me there was more to this place than I could ever imagine. And that only pushed me to try to imagine all the horrors that could lie behind any one of these doors.

And let's face it—I was going to be put behind one of those doors. Which one, I didn't know, but I knew it would be one and that was enough knowledge to figure out that levers and buttons didn't seem to be what was in those smaller rooms. Maybe…maybe it was just a hormonal girl overreacting…?

I really needed to stop lying to myself.

We continued walking around the huge room, Skulker and I. Eventually he brought me to a stop at a room labeled '127' on a modest wooden plaque. I realized immediately that 127 was going to be my room. My honest preference would be no room at all, but if I was going to work here I might as well have a bed to sleep in and a place to stay. …Please let that girl have been overreacting to a nightmare or something…even though it was still broad daylight…

With a swipe of a card key, the door opened. I still didn't get why it had to look like a circular vault door.

Skulker put the card key into a pocket on his suit and pulled the door open. He then untied my aching wrists and grabbed my upper arm. I wasn't expecting to be brutally thrust inside room 127.

A large circular light flickered on overhead. It reminded me of a school light, the pure white it was in coupled with its level of brightness. The door slammed shut, leaving a very faint echo.

I took an opportunity to observe my room before someone came to pull me back out of it. There was a bathroom—very small, but still a bathroom—as well as a bed, which was actually just a mattress with a blanket and pillow on it. Just outside the bathroom walls was a rack for towels and wash cloths. I took note of the room's lack of a dresser. Oh well. The only clothes I had packed were the ones on my back, so it wasn't like I needed a dresser anyway.

The walls of the room weren't painted, and the floor wasn't tiled or carpeted. Everything was completely metal and barren. I didn't expect it to have an interior design, but this was nuts. The floor, I could expect from them, but the bare walls? Surely they could do better, halfas or not. I mean, would it kill them—or at least half of them—to make this place feel homey in the slightest?

I sighed for probably the third, maybe fourth time today. Hopefully Mom was staying in a better room than this, even though that was highly unlikely.

I heard an unexpected clunk coming from the door and instinctively backed up. I knew it would open.

But I would fight tooth and nail before I let them do whatever to me.

The door opened.

**A/N**

**When you read the next chapter, please don't hate me...**


	4. Chapter 4

A figure appeared in the doorway. A halfa—I could tell by the glow he emanated. This one was something I didn't expect though… He looked like a teenage boy around my age. He was a scrawny little thing that had white hair, white gloves, white boots, a white belt, a white shirt collar, and a white logo on the chest that looked like a D with a smaller P inside. The rest of his suit was black. DP…wonder what that stood for, assuming it stood for anything—these things were crazy, remember? For all I knew, and for all I cared, it could just be his two favorite letters or something.

What really got me was how human he looked. Yes, he was a halfa, and yes, he would look humanistic, but most of them, if not all of them, looked more ghostly—halfas could take on both human and ghost forms, although they always seemed to prefer their ghost form. I'd always thought of it as some sort of show for strength. At that thought, I wondered what this string bean registered on the three-seven scale. He certainly wasn't much to look at, and he hardly induced fear in me—I was still a bit wary, considering how deceptive halfas could be. A part of me somewhere deep inside wanted to laugh at him and his utter lack of intimidation, but those striking emerald eyes held me stiff. His entire face was completely void of emotion, making him seem cold and serious. It wasn't enough to be intimidating, but it was enough to make me take mental notes to be cautious around him.

He closed the door and looked straight into my eyes. No emotion whatsoever in him. If I _died_ he wouldn't care. A stick bug with those eyes was unreal. I had never expected eyes that could rip a hole in your mental processes from any of the halfas here. Losing a train of thought just didn't cut it with those things.

He muttered something incomprehensible and tried to shove his thick, messy hair out of his face only to have it fall back to its original position.

"Clothes off," he said.

His voice had a slight echo to it, but then, why would I expect any different? He was a halfa, and a creepy one at that. So yes, of course he would have a voice like that. Made him all the creepier—probably what he was going for.

"No," I firmly replied, turning my head and folding my arms to look as stubborn as possible.

He sighed, clearly becoming impatient with me even though he had just spoken to me not moments ago. I couldn't help but assume that he had just gotten through doing something stressful or tiring. "It wasn't a suggestion. Clothes off. _Now_."

I huffed and, obviously offended by a perverted halfa, repeated myself, this time bouncing my arms just once. If I could prove my point maybe he would just get me to work.

"Last chance. Take off your clothes," he growled.

I knew I would waver if I looked into his eyes, so instead I kept a steady gaze to the side and grunted.

"Fine. We do this the hard way," he muttered as he pulled out what looked like a blue gun with a flat top.

I immediately caught sight of it and my eyes widened. Suddenly being stubborn and rebellious didn't seem like such a good idea and now it was too late to backpedal.

As he came nearer to me, I let my arms drop to my side and scrambled backward until my back was pressed up against the wall. All my strong will vanished and I was helpless, at the mercy of a twig with a _gun_. If this was his version of "the hard way", then I wanted nothing to do with it. I never wanted anything to do with this place to begin with but now…!

I closed my eyes so I wouldn't see it coming.

I felt the tip of it press against my…stomach? What? What did the gun do, inject poison in me or something? If he was going to shoot me he could at least make it a close-ranged headshot. Halfas…

His thumb hovered over a black button on the topmost part of the gun and he pressed it a little further against me. He hit the button and I immediately felt a sharp pain where the gun was pointed.

…Did he shoot me? Was that it?

I heard the gun beep and my eyes snapped back to it. Was it even a gun…? It sure enough looked like one but I could just as easily be wrong.

The halfa took the gun away and I saw a tiny red mark where it had been. It looked like I had only been pricked. So…he wanted my blood? Was that what the gun was for? He scared me out of my wits just to take a blood sample?! These halfas really were nuts!

A small screen popped up from the gun—assuming it _was_ a gun—and it seemed to show a graph with at least ten differently-colored lines rising up and down. Some of them were low, some were high, and some of them kind of plateaued. Others started high then plummeted, and it was reversed for the rest. The stickman carefully examined it, eventually zooming in on two lines, both lower, with the press of a button. Was it something in my blood, like my oxygen levels or some kind of…um…whatever else was in the blood? I honestly couldn't read that graph—I'd never been good with them. Maybe oxygen levels were one of those lines, but what were the other nine?

The screen went black and snapped back into its little slot in the gun. He mumbled something to himself that I couldn't quite make out and tucked the gun into his belt.

He then proceeded to undress _right in front of me_. First he took off his gloves, boots, and belt. I found it a little odd that he would even need a belt when his pants didn't start to slip or fall down. Then he took off his shirt and pants. Halfas wore boxers…? I shut my eyes as those came off too.

What an amazing first day… I hadn't been here all of one hour and already there was this weird, tiny halfa who… Oh no. Crap, how did I miss that? Before he'd undressed, he kept telling me to take my clothes off. What, did he really think I was going to let anything happen between us? I didn't know him! He didn't know me! Last thing I needed was some sick, perverted halfa near me, or even in the same building as me!

"Out of chivalry, I'll ask you one last time to take your clothes off," he said in the same cold, even tone he'd used earlier. This time, though, it didn't hold a hint of anger, frustration, or pretty much anything for that matter.

Without opening my eyes—I had zero desire to see a naked stick thing—I told him, "No chance, Stick Bug; go ask one of your own girls."

I heard him produce a noise of discontentment.

"Just do it," he ordered.

I shook my head.

Without another word, I heard him come forward, closer to me. And I got this sudden feeling of regret. The gun was on the ground, nestled in the pile of his clothes. He had nothing on him; unless he had been packing something in his boxers—I highly doubted that but I remembered that I had to keep an open mind to everything here. I shouldn't have anything to fear. He was a halfa, and although I was wary of him, he was literally just a twig shaped like a glowing half-human.

I still refused to open my eyes, partly because I didn't want to see what was coming—it was clear that something was going to happen; I just wasn't sure what.

I didn't realize how close he'd gotten until I felt strong hands grab my shoulders. He was a halfa and a pervert but he wouldn't actually force himself on me…right?

Just to take precautions, I tried to step back only to realize that I'd already backed up against a corner when I saw his gun. I was trapped now…

He swiftly moved on hand down to my wrists and grabbed them both, soon holding them up to my arms' full extent. The other hand moved from my shoulder to the hem of my shirt, where he shoved it above my head. I wanted to struggle as he somewhat freed my wrists—he kept a firm hold on them, but had to switch hands and separate my wrists because of my shirt—but I found myself unable to move. It was just a shirt… He didn't take off anything too major. All he had exposed was my bra, nothing more.

And why not jinx it as he used his whole body to press me very tightly into my little corner? It was only when he took off my pants that I began to truly feel the fear. Suddenly he was extremely dangerous, something to be terrified of. Panic, I discovered, would come just moments later.

When I got scared, my body always stiffened. Right now I was petrified. So, needless to say, he had no trouble whatsoever getting the rest of my clothes off me. If not for the fear I would've been embarrassed. Halfa or not, he _was_ a male; he _was_ of the opposite sex. But all things considered, nudity was the least of my worries. I was proven wrong—these halfas, or at least this one, _would_ force themselves on me.

I was pushed to the ground, flat on my back, and I shuddered when I felt him on top of me. Now I wanted to open my eyes. I wanted to glare at him and remember his face when he did this. But when I did look at him, I found myself having to look away. It was his eyes… They were so cold and dull, almost lifeless… At the same time they were bright with energy and, dare I say it, emotion. It was hard to understand how his eyes held no emotion, but at the same time, held emotion. It was almost like there was a glint of something behind all that murky green dread.

And then it struck me. _Lust_.

At that single word, I snapped my legs shut, my eyebrows furrowing with the little determination I had left. But it was no use fighting against him. Halfas were ten times as strong as any human, so he had no trouble opening them again.

I knew it was pointless but now it was panic time. I had held off for as long as I could but now that I was about to be violated, I was sent into overdrive. My body convulsed. I bucked under him, trying everything to get away. I tried to roll, push him off, squirm free…and nothing worked. He was still on top of me. This was still going to happen.

I felt him position himself, getting ready to deflower me. I jerked around several more times, again to be proven a fruitless effort. I tried to get my mind under control. There was no way out. Even if I managed to get out from under him, where could I go? I was locked up in a small metal room with nowhere but the bathroom to go. Something told me he wouldn't hesitate to follow a lady into the bathroom.

I tried so hard to keep realization at bay. Mentally, I kept swatting at it, trying to shoo it away as if it was an annoying fly incessantly buzzing around my head. In spite of my attempts to push it back, it hit me anyway and I immediately calmed down—_physically_. My mind wasn't functioning the way it should; now it was drowning in a vast sea of turmoil.

Maybe I would've thought more about it, perhaps even managed to go into deeper thought about it, but I felt a sharp pain down below and knew that he had finally entered me. The pain was intense and only grew as he kept going. The closest I could possibly come to describing it would be the feeling of being slowly split in half. I would rather have been electrocuted to _death_ than to suffer through this.

It came to the edge of my attention that I was now screaming for him to stop. He was ignoring me entirely. I was verbalizing, to the top of my lungs, the one thought that kept running through my mind—"STOP!" And he wouldn't listen.

After about fifteen minutes of continuous torture, resulting in agony and more desperate cries on my part, I all but lost my voice. Ironically, _that_ was when he decided to get out of me and get off of me. As soon as he was off me, I closed my legs—more on reflex than anything else.

I turned onto my side and slowly curled into a tight little ball. I closed my eyes again and this time, I didn't open them. That kind of pain was something I knew I would never forget.

I heard the sound of cloth moving against skin and knew he was getting dressed. Not long after, I heard the clunk of the door, and the resounding echo of it shutting. I was expecting the light to flicker off, just to help match the lonely setting of the room, but it stayed on.

Just like the sun had.

**A/N**

**PLEASE DON'T HATE ME!  
**


	5. Chapter 5

I stayed curled up for the longest of times. They couldn't break my spirit, no, but in the first half hour of my lovely stay, they had broken my body. _And_ the one thing I could never get back, the one thing that would never heal—my virginity. My first time wasn't supposed to be with Stick Bug—it's demeaning to both his looks and strength, so as decreed by me, his name is now Stick Bug—it was supposed to be with someone I loved, preferably after I was married; but no, not now.

I turned over on my other side, knees still against my chest and arms still wrapped tightly around my legs.

I hated him. I didn't dislike him, I _hated_ him. But I also feared him. Now I knew what he wasn't afraid to do. Now I knew what he _would_ do. At first glance he was something you could laugh at. He didn't look very strong and if not for his eyes, he would have looked comical, like he could be overpowered in a minute at most. That was underestimating him though. After what he did, I viewed him as stronger—in evilness if nothing else—than Skulker. I was guessing he scored about six on the three-seven scale. Then again, he was ten times stronger than me and I didn't know the extent of power between halfas. For all I knew, Skulker was actually more powerful than him.

And it didn't help my spirits that he didn't even have to use his ghost abilities to do this to me. It was almost like he wouldn't even think about using them! He could've at least _pretended_ to put some effort into it!

Then again…maybe it was better he offended me. For him, to pretend could mean going too far. I most certainly didn't want him to go too far. He'd already done that and I must say I suffered from it. He had done it without hesitation. I say "it" because I didn't want to say the actual word; not anymore. I could say "hurt" but that was as far as I was willing to go. So he _hurt_ me.

And speaking of hurt, that's just what my entire lower abdomen was feeling. It was sore now, unlike when Stick Bug was having fun. That was one of the reasons I chose to stay down—it would hurt to stand or walk. I decided I would give myself time to adjust before testing any form of leg movement. I mean, I already knew I would be pretty sore for the next few days, but I would really appreciate it if I tried to give myself a couple hours' break. Hopefully that would lessen the pain when I would try to stand up later.

For now, though, I was content just staying on my side. I'd admit to the floor being cold, but it was surprisingly clean. For some reason the bed just didn't appeal to me as much as the floor, and the strange chances were, I would end up taking the blanket off the bed and wrap it around me as I slept on a metal floor. Weird, huh?

_God_, my abdomen hurt… The soreness was dying down, thankfully, but it was taking its time. And I hated it. It was like Stick Bug had left his mark on me, stamped me as his. I wasn't his. I wasn't anyone's. I belonged to no one and no matter what they did to me, no matter how hard they tried to kill the inside, it would stay that way. If I ever saw Stick Bug again—and I probably would—I would try to kill him. I would use my teeth, my nails, and go for any opening I could find. And if I couldn't find an opening, I would make one.

I heard the clunk and looked towards the door. Forget about waiting. Waiting itself could wait.

Me? I wasn't going to wait. I jumped to my feet and backed straight up against the corner I was…_hurt_ in.

I couldn't help but take notice of the darkish puddle of liquid on the part of the floor where I'd just moved from. Normally, I would be able to recognize it as soon as I saw it. It took me at least a full two seconds to get it, though; I had never seen it look this way before. It was blood—my blood. While it was still dark, there was some sort of deluded milky _stuff_ mixed in. As the door opened, I grimaced. That milky "stuff" wasn't exactly part of a female's menstrual cycle. But it _was_ an element to her reproductive cycle. This was disgusting… This was just disgusting… He really _had_ left a part of him inside me. Oh, God, if I was pregnant…! If he got me pregnant I would kill him a thousand times over! At least the part of him that could die, anyway.

Sure enough, with my luck, closing the door was Stick Bug himself.

And wouldn't you know it, I was still naked. This way he didn't have to waste any time getting my clothes off.

"What's wrong with _you_?" he asked as he pulled out some cleaning supplies I had never even noticed.

I growled at him. I literally growled. This deep, animalistic rumble vibrated in my throat. It was accompanied with a snarl and a cautious eye. If I was subconsciously going for an angry wolf look, then I was probably pulling it off.

He took out a clean rag and got down on his hands and knees, seeming to have little interest in me as I continued to huddle in my little corner. I must've had a very contradictory look to me right now. I mean, I was terrified and showed it by staying motionlessly in a corner, but I was making nasty faces at him while doing so.

He spared me a single glance before he started wiping up the blood-seed mixture. "Fine, don't answer."

Maybe it was me, but he sounded just barely annoyed. I was tempted to annoy him further, just to show him that I wasn't going to back down—just to show him that I would _die_ before he could break me. But I wasn't a stupid idiot, like he might think. I didn't answer but allowed myself to produce any expression my body wanted to. I would say that I wasn't going to cower but…I was kind of already doing that.

My eyes glared at him, and there was no way he didn't feel that kind of raw hatred.

But no, he merely kept going about his own business, pretending I wasn't even there. I was halfway expecting him to start whistling some kind of cliché tune while he worked.

I guess I could be thankful, though, in a certain way. He was only here to clean up after himself—or at least that was how it looked; if he was going to hurt me again he would've done that first then cleaned. So he wasn't going to hurt me and apparently it was his job to keep my room clean. Either that or he didn't want anyone to find out about what he did. Hmph. If that was the case, then the next person who came in here would be hearing _everything_. Then maybe he would get the boot from this place and no other girls would be in danger.

The disgusting, evil thing. He just sat there cleaning, not bothering to speak to me, look at me, or even wait for an answer. Nope, he didn't do any of that. He just sat there cleaning. And it bugged me half to death.

For the next several minutes, I stood there glaring at him. He made no response to indicate that he even knew I was there. He didn't do anything to acknowledge me. So I just stood there, listening to the cloth swishing against the floor. It somehow comforted me. In a way, it became a lullaby and I actually got sleepy as a result. I shouldn't have been anything but angry and scared, but for some reason I was just completely exhausted. I wanted to flop down anywhere—didn't have to be one specific place—and rest.

I didn't realize what I was doing until Stick Bug saw me.

"What are you doing?" he asked in that same cold, uncaring voice he always used.

It was then that I noticed my body swaying a little. I was tired, that was the only explanation I could come up with for this.

He rolled his eyes—as if he had a right to—and put the dirty cloth in the little cleaning box he'd brought with him. Then he brought out a fresh one, went into the bathroom to wet it, and came back out to continue wiping up his mess. This meant that the cloth was moving against the floor again, which in turn made me want to fall asleep all the more. There was just something about the rhythm of it that got to me and made me tired.

I honestly just didn't have it in me to keep standing and sat down, keeping my knees against my chest for the sweet warmth that would probably push me over the edge and into the land of the unconscious.

I yawned, catching his attention. He looked around with a confused expression—the only and first expression I'd seen on his face—but seemed to find nothing. I could easily guarantee that I was confusing him. That was good; it was one of the many things he deserved. It would be awesome if I could freak him out by…oh…pretending to die or something.

Then again, he was a halfa and he wouldn't really care if I died. If anything, he would like it.

As I continued watching him work, and as I continued to get more and more sleepy, I noticed—or at least I think I did; I could've been hallucinating from exhaustion or something—that a patch of his hair, still on top of his head but a little off to the side, was darker than the rest. It looked kind of like he had something under his hair, which made that weird little patch look darker. It looked a little more…uh…I would go out on a limb here and guess brown. Or was it gray? No, gray would be how his hair currently looked. Okay, so maybe a grayish-brown color. What was under it though?

I tried to shrug it off. Why did it matter? It was hair, so what? Besides, I was seriously becoming drop-dead tired… I wanted to sleep now… If I was still wondering about his hair later, then I would just ask him. Whether he chose to answer was up to him. If he didn't answer, then I would just stop caring and muzzle my curiosity.

Ah… I swear it had to be the soft _shhh shhh shhh shhh_ of the cloth that got to me. It was just so _calming_… The sound in itself was so gentle and regular, like the ticking of a clock or the tapping of a metronome. Noises like that always lulled me to sleep. And he was doing just that, probably without realizing it.

It honestly felt like a reflex, but I hugged my stomach, pulled my legs even closer to me, and let my forehead rest on my knees. The corner helped to trap my body heat, creating a small cocoon of warmth from the inside out. If not for being completely naked, I would feel like a little snugly caterpillar.

It was impossible even for me to understand how absolutely comfortable I could feel in Stick Bug's presence, but I was. And he kept making that awful, yet very welcomed, _shhh_ _shhh_ of the cloth. A tiny part of me wondered if he was doing that on purpose—you would think that by now, the lone spot on the floor would be clean; it wasn't that much blood to begin with. I would all too quickly bet ten bucks he got some kind of entertainment out of putting me down for a nap like I was some young child. My brain kept demanding that I sleep, and think about him later. I gladly obeyed, and allowed my lids to slowly close.

_Shhh shhh shhh shhh…shhh…shhh…shhh…_

**A/N**

**Before any of you begin to wonder about ANYTHING in this chapter, let me clarify something that some of you seem to be asking (even though I said to hold your questions): NOTHING IS WRONG WITH DANNY. He knows exactly what he's doing. _There's no mind control, brainwashing, or someone forcing him into all this_. Unlike 99% of all DP fanfics, _Danny is the villain of this story_. He isn't the white knight he is in the show. He's hostile, uncaring, and doesn't give a crap about humans (in case you haven't already figured that out). So just to put your minds to rest on that matter, he's not a good guy here, and there's nothing forcing him to do ANY of this. He does it because he wants to.**

**Another thing, really quick: There are no filler chapters whatsoever in this story. Every single one contains significance. Most of the time, you won't see it straight away, but later in the story (since this is still just the beginning) you'll see the ties these chapters have to later chapters, and you'll the the subtle events connect to larger ones. Those larger ones will connect to even larger ones. It's a lot like a branch, except this time it's going from the bottom up. So PAY ATTENTION, or you'll be severely confused later on because of the things you keep missing. **

**Apologies for the long A/N.**


	6. Chapter 6

I woke to the clunk of the door. Stick Bug was there. He was coming in, which meant he had left while I was asleep. How long had I been out?

I looked for any remnants of a bad cleaning job, but there was none. I hate to admit it, but he actually did a good job. That area he had cleaned looked spotless; much better than the rest of the room.

He eyes met mine, and I stiffened. They were just so…_cold_. I hated them; I hated his eyes! Were they full of life and actual emotions, they would be bright and beautiful. But he had ruined them. He had completely and utterly managed to wreck his eyes simply by depriving them of what he himself needed.

Stick Bug closed the door and looked down toward his clothing. Mine were already off, and this time I knew what was coming. But this time I wasn't going down. I wasn't going to snivel and act like the coward I had last time.

He took off his gloves, boots, shirt, and belt, but nothing beyond that. His pants and boxers? Yeah. Those were still on his body and not on the ground. The rest of his garments had been tossed carelessly to the side, winding up crumpled together in a small pile.

I really didn't know what to make of this now… I would see this halfa, and the images of what he did to me would pop into my head. And now I looked at him and nothing popped up.

"Lay down," he said demandingly.

"No." I folded my arms, just like the first time, and turned my head to the side along with my gaze.

He kicked at the ground. "Quit being so difficult and _lay_ _down_. It's not that hard."

"Oh, quit being so difficult? Well you _were_ nice enough to clean up my blood and your semen. I guess you do deserve something in return. Oh, wait! You already got something from me," I spat sarcastically.

You see, sarcasm was my specialty. I loved using it, and this twig was going to have to get used to little sarcastic arguments and insults. I wouldn't mind if he killed me. I would die—I was dead serious—before I ever _considered_ bowing to him. I wouldn't be an easy one; I took pride in just thinking about that. Giving him a hard time after what he did to me… It seemed pretty appropriate, all things considered. I obviously wouldn't win with physical strength, I had no choice but to accept that fact, but I could give him the hardest time ever. And I could struggle against him for as long as he was here. Well I _would_ give him a hard time and I _would_ struggle against him. And I would enjoy every moment of it, knowing that I was the one causing him all that frustration and irritation.

"Just lay down," he repeated, this time in exasperation. Something told me he didn't have a very patient nature.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "I said _no_, Twiggy."

He jerked his head back—more confusion. Hm. So it _was_ possible to get more than one reaction from him. I smirked at my small victory.

"Twiggy…?" He shook his head and returned to his dark, emotionless state. "Lay. Down."

"I'll _die_ before I'll be this obedient little toy you want. And if you think I'm lying, _try me_," I dared him, rather firmly and somewhat darkly I might add.

He held two fingers to his forehead and muttered something under his breath. "Could you at least _sit_ down? Even dogs can do that."

"I'm not a dog," I said bluntly. "But I don't need to be to sniff out a filthy rat."

I saw a tiny spark of shock in his eyes, but aside from that his expression remained unchanged. I was succeeding in giving him a hard time, and now I was already reaping the rewards. I knew better than to push it, but I wouldn't obey him and one way or another, sooner or later, I would make him see that.

He scoffed and looked down, putting his hands on his hips and grumbling more little halfa things. Sometimes he smiled in disbelief—something I took great satisfaction in—and other times he made gestures or threw his hands up in the air. I was sure I heard something in there that sounded like, "…my job so much easier…!" Pfft. His job; like I would care about that. He deserved to lose his job. Or better, be demoted down to the lowest rank, or level, or whatever they had here, before losing his job.

"Okay," he finally said, looking at my face—I refused to look at his awful, soulless eyes. "Lay down now, or we do this the hard way. Your choice, _milady_."

Now I knew I had pushed it to the limit. "The hard way" was not a good way. I lay down but I didn't actually obey him—I obeyed _myself_ by telling myself to lie down.

"Happy?" I spat.

He didn't respond in any way, but went to the center of the room and sat down, facing the door. And now I was officially and thoroughly confused. This wasn't anywhere close to what happened last time. He didn't even take off his clothes! Well, not all of them at least; what was _with_ that?

Ow, ow, okay, ow… Oh, geez! It hurt, it almost stung; my abdomen hurt. It caused me to hiss in pain—not loudly, but apparently audible enough for him to hear. Although it was said that these things had enhanced hearing, so I wasn't really sure if my hiss was loud or soft.

He turned his head in my direction, casting his eyes with it.

"What's the matter _now_?" he deadpanned.

I turned my head to the side again and answered, "Nothing you would care about, Stick Bug."

"Is, um… Is your stomach hurting?"

Trust me when I say, that was in no way a genuine question. I could tell by his tone that he was almost playing with me. He knew it hurt. After doing what he did, why wouldn't it hurt?

"Yes, if it's to your pleasure," I snapped back. "You couldn't have made me pass out or killed me first? Then you wouldn't have had any struggling and you would've still gotten what you want."

He laughed. "I already got what I wanted, struggle or no."

I wanted to mimic his laugh just for spite, but I opted not to. "Why are you even back here? Don't you have something better to do—something that doesn't involve sitting there staring at a door?"

"It's my job, if you must know—"

"Your job?" I interrupted. "Your job is to sit half naked and stare at a door?"

And it was _officially_ official now. They. Were. Mental.

He sighed. "You humans are all the same…"

"Likewise," I shot back.

He snorted in response. "Do you even know where you're at?"

I cast him a wholehearted snarl. "An H-fac."

"A what? You're in a _halfa_ _factory_," he said, his tone implying that I was a complete idiot.

"Really? You're sitting there thinking _I'm_ the idiot? An H-fac _is_ a halfa factory! It's _literally_ short for 'halfa' and 'factory'," I retorted. Then I remembered my mother and before he had a chance to reply, I added, "Where's my mother?"

He tensed. And I saw it.

"Where is she, _what did you do to her_?!" I screeched.

I needed my mother. I loved her. She was taken from me by the very same monsters who took me. I wanted to know where she was. I wanted to know what they had done to her.

He cleared his throat. "I don't know and I couldn't care less. She wasn't assigned to me."

My head shot up. "Assigned? What do you mean 'assigned'?"

He relaxed. Strange… I still wanted to know about my mother, but this whole "assigned" part of it was nagging at my conscience already.

He took a breath and explained, "Whenever a girl comes into the factory, she's assigned to a certain halfa. That halfa becomes responsible for everything as soon as she gets in her room. He has to feed her, do her laundry, keep her room cleaned, and make sure she has everything she needs. Basically, she becomes his property, and he has to take care of her."

I gawked. "Uh, no. I don't belong to you." I pointed to myself. "This girl doesn't belong to _anyone_."

He shrugged. "You do now. You were assigned to me; that means you belong to me. It also means I get the pure joy of putting up with you."

Oh God, how I wanted to slap him and then kick his genitals as hard as possible and then beat the living crap out of the rest of him.

"But," he continued, "You technically belong to something bigger. While I'm the one who has all authority over anything concerning you, the officials can check up on you at any time they want. From that aspect, I'm a sort of caretaker. You're my property, but you're technically a part of the factory itself."

"Well I wish you would just do something wrong and lose your job…" I muttered spitefully.

He merely shrugged again. "Won't happen. If I end up doing something wrong, you'll only be reassigned. Now if I mess up on three girls, I lose my job."

"Can I request a reassignment?" I drawled.

"Actually, yes, you can. But I have to authorize it," he replied.

"Augh! _Why?!_"

"I just told you—_I own you_. You seem to have a hard time grasping that."

"I'm only going to keep fighting you; why can't you authorize my reassignment?" I asked, this time genuinely curious.

He inhaled and said, "Because I'm in a contest with a friend right now—who can get the most girls. Right now I have seventeen. He has twelve. I'd say I'm winning."

Wait, he was taking care of seventeen girls? Seventeen? Last time I checked, that was a lot. He had to be sixteen himself, yet he was taking care of sixteen other girls who probably all hated him? How was he able to manage that? He had told me that he was responsible for every single one of us, and had to supply us with whatever we needed. He also had to meet our demands—in terms of food and stuff. I couldn't understand how a teenage boy could do all that. Then again, that was his job, so he had all day.

But what about meals? He had to feed us and if he failed, the girl he messed up on would be reassigned to someone else. Was that for better or worse? I didn't ask him whether it was good or bad. Apparently—by halfa standards—we belonged to Stick Bug here.

Somehow that thought reminded me of his hair, namely that grayish-brown patch off to the side. It was seriously bugging me now. I didn't know why but it felt important—it was the only thing that made him physically different from the other halfas, as far as I could tell.

"Why do you keep looking at me?" he muttered.

"Because I hate you," I shot back.

He only laughed. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

Huh, wonder why. I hated him. God, I hated him. I wanted to wish my kind of pain on him but being a male, it was impossible for him to experience it.

"Oh for the love of God, please reassign me…"

"No can do. Contest, remember? I'm in the lead so far and it'll stay that way. Now, if you're done with the questions, shut up," he said.

I was honestly taken aback. I just… I didn't know what to think or say. Should've been expecting it but for some reason I wasn't. I couldn't put anything past Stick Bug could I? First he hurts me, then he cleans up afterward, now he tells me I'm his property.

"No! No, you know what? I'm not going to be quiet until you reassign me!"

He slowly shook his head while clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"Trust me," he said. "Everyone here is just like me. Do you have any clue what happens in a halfa factory?"

"Humans are brought here to create new halfas. Hence, the 'halfa' 'factory'. Pretty obvious," I answered.

"Do you know how they're made?" he asked.

"I… No…not really…"

He nodded his head just once and turned all the way around to face me. I got caught by his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

Inhaling, he said, "New halfas _can't_ be created by other halfas."

I cocked my head. "Why not? You're both sick and disgusting abominations…"

Glaring at me—and making his eyes even more intense—he replied, "We've tried. The unborn baby gains its powers too early and at around two months it phases through the mother. It's too premature to save, so it dies the instant it hits the floor."

My eyes widened. That was horrible! No wonder these filthy things wouldn't reproduce on their own… It wasn't because they couldn't, it was because they didn't want to keep killing the lives of their children.

"What about using that shock thing to make yourselves into halfas?" I suggested.

It was rumored that the first halfa was created accidentally by an abnormal electric shock. Something unnatural happened and it killed half of a human, resulting in that human's spirit remaining attached to the living body. In essence, that human was both dead and living, and since its spirit was still attached to its body, the human became half ghost. Thus, the first halfa was created.

"Tried it," he replied. "There were twenty of us who wanted to test that out. Only one of us came out alive. The voltage is too strong for most people to handle."

"Were you the one who came out alive?" I asked, this time genuinely curious. After seeing nineteen of his friends, or colleagues, or…whatevers die, it would make sense that he would be this harsh—although to the point of the "r" word?

He paused for a moment before shaking his head. "No. It happened before I was created."

"Then how were you created?" I continued, slightly confused as to why he took a bit before saying that he wasn't the halfa who came out alive.

He scoffed as if I had offended him. "You can shut up any time you want!"

"Okay, wait, you still haven't answered my question—how are halfas created and why do you need humans to do it for you?"

"We get human girls pregnant. The unborn baby is a quarter ghost and gets it powers later, so obviously it won't phase out of the womb. After it's born we take the baby and produce an electric charge. The electricity is fused with ectoplasm and shocks the baby. The voltage is cut by 50%, so it isn't enough to kill anyone. The ectoplasm in the electricity forces the other 25% of its ghost part, and it becomes a halfa. There's your answer," he growled, as if severely annoyed with the explanation.

"Wait a minute, you _electrocute_ _babies_?!" I yelled. "What happens to the poor mother, huh? Do you zap her too?!"

"We take the baby from its mother and she either ends up pregnant again, or is sent off to an HBC."

"HBC?"

"God, you really are dim. Human breeding camp. It's basically where she can spend the rest of her life outside the factory—she won't have to worry about encounters with halfas anymore. She's free to go wherever she wants or do whatever she wants," he mumbled, lowering his voice at the last part. "It's not even a breeding camp or even a camp at all; we just call it that."

My head shot up and this time, _he_ was caught by _my_ eyes.

"Is my mother free?" I breathed.

He tensed, again at the mention of my mother.

"I told you, she wasn't assigned to me. I don't have any mothers. Well…except for a few. But none of them are yours—they're all pregnant with my child. Just one more reason I'm stuck taking care of you all."

"WHAT?! I thought your job was to provide for us! You never said anything about getting us pregnant! What is this, some kind of sick amusement for you?! Do you enj—"

He cut me off before I could finish. "I'm not amused by dealing with hormonal women. I'm supposed to take care of you—and put up with _you_ especially—but that's only part of my job. I'm also in charge of impregnating you and every other girl I take care of. In case you're as deaf as you are dim, you're brought here to get pregnant, give birth, and get out. The sooner you get pregnant, the sooner you can leave."

My jaw dropped and could only gawk at him. That was the prick… That needle had to have been injecting something—I knew what but I certainly didn't want to think about it—into me that would get me pregnant. And once I gave birth I would be stuck raising a halfa baby. Or…u-unless…

"After the baby becomes a halfa, what exactly happens to it?" I asked.

I was no cruel person and if it was my child, halfa or not, I would at least want it to know who its mother was. But I was just a human—100% human—and couldn't be shocked into a halfa without being killed, so how was I supposed to handle rearing a halfa child? Unless… Was he supposed to help out with that? Teach the baby how to control its powers? Would he play a part in the baby's life?

"It's taken from the mother and sent to a special anti-ghost nursery, where its powers are cancelled out until it begins to show signs of partial control," he replied.

"Uh…doesn't the mother help out? I mean, if the baby's powers—"

Again I was interrupted. "As soon as the mother recovers from labor, she's usually sent to the HBC; aka, the outside world. She won't see the baby again."

"What?! Why not?!" I shouted, determined to know why I would be unable to see my own kid.

He stood up and put his clothes back on.

He then shrugged and walked out the door with, "It's just the rule; how should I know?"

The already-familiar _clunk_ followed by deep silence intruded my ears.

I proceeded to put my own clothes on. Feeling naked wasn't exactly comfortable and my body seemed to be begging me for a little privacy. After all it had been through, I decided to do as it wanted.

But now I would have to find other ways to pass time. Something told me Stick Bug wouldn't come in to bring me a TV or drawing pads with pencils. He had said his job was to take care of us in terms of necessities _and_ that he didn't like it. So I honestly didn't see any reason why he would feel compelled to give me some form of entertainment.

I climbed onto my bed, which was surprisingly more comfortable than it appeared. Eventually, after giving it very little thought, I decided to daydream myself to sleep. It was after an hour of staying awake that I wished I had Stick Bug in here with his cleaning cloth. The gentle and regular _shhh shhh shhh shhh_ of the cloth had been enough to lull me to sleep last time, despite the fact that evil lurked in the room. I wanted that again. It had already become addictive, that awful yet heavenly sound, and I found myself craving more of it. I wondered if it would be possible to get to sleep without that cloth. The noise that danced in my head and the noise that wasn't there were totally different and the one in my head was nowhere near as satisfying as the one that, sadly, wasn't there.

I hated the steady _shhh shhh shhh shhh_ because it was Stick Bug who had introduced me to it, yet I loved the _shh shhh shhh shhh_ because it was so calming. It literally let me relax as if there was nothing to worry about. And with that sound, there really was nothing to worry about. Stick Bug was too busy cleaning with it so I was safe until that _shhh shhh shhh shhh_ stopped. Then I went back to being tense and wary. In case you haven't noticed by now, I really hated that feeling.

Maybe I could somehow convince him to give me the cloth. I could hang my arm over the mattress and sweep it leisurely across the floor until I conked out. The reality of the situation I was in right now seemed to be something in which something as simple as a cleaning cloth wouldn't matter whatsoever, but the other reality of this situation was that it _did_ matter because stress would only make this worse. That special cloth was my equivalent of burning incense while soaking in a hot bubble bath.

So shut up and don't judge me on this.

I wanted to see if there was a clock in here but I highly doubted they had one. Even if they did, what difference would it make to me? I had no natural light to tell me how late or early it was in the day or night. I had nothing to do except sit in here all day every day. In short, it wasn't exactly like I had a schedule.


End file.
